


The Best of Overwatch

by talesfromthepayload



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesfromthepayload/pseuds/talesfromthepayload
Summary: While you were a mildly successful Overwatch streamer, you never expected to meet the characters you'd played so often.





	1. Part One

The world was quiet around you, your roommate having gone to stay with some friends, as always. You were peacefully alone, the bright glow of your monitor lighting the room around you.

“Get their Bastion!” A familiar, muffled voice shouted over your headset.

“Got him.” You replied, grip on your mouse tightening as your helix rockets sent the enemy team’s Bastion falling into a pile of scraps.

A Genji popped out of the spawn point, trying- and failing- at getting on the payload before your team won. ‘Victory’ popped up in the middle of your screen, momentarily blinding you. It was late and you had a midterm tomorrow.

“Alright guys,” you announced, breaking the silence. “I’ve got to get going.”

Your friends grumbled “goodbye” and “goodnight” before you exited Overwatch, hoping to catch an adequate amount of sleep for your midterm tomorrow. You heaved a sigh, lifting yourself from your chair for the first time in hours. You’d been editing a few clips, deciding which one would make it into your next video. Making Overwatch videos had become a hobby while you were away at college.

You’d become decently successful at it too, though sometimes the amount of time you sunk into it stressed you to no end.

Green lit up your screen as you shut it down, following the path to your little bed before the light disappeared. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out.

 

“Is…”

“Okay…”

“Stable…”

You couldn’t quite make out what you were hearing, your head pounding as you tried to push yourself up. Your head rolled back, voices coming from all sides.  
“Ugh,” you groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Your bleary gaze fell on a clock to your right. Absentmindedly, you wondered when that had gotten there, but the time sent a spark of energy and worry through your spine.

_10:37_

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping up faster than your head wanted, if the pounding was anything to go by.

The world was spinning as you looked around, blurry colors trying to piece together the room. You needed your closet. You ran to the right, knowing about where it’d be. You were stopped short, running directly into a hard surface.

You stumbled back, holding your head as you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus. You released a breath, raising your head to the room.

You’d finally regained your vision to the fullest, though it didn’t seem to help much.

“Uh…”

Your brows furrowed, legs weakening at the sight you found yourself in front of. Three people stood next to you. Three very recognizable people.

“Mercy? Soldier? Zenyatta?”

Talk about a weird dream.

“You are familiar with us?” The blonde that you’d played oh-so many times questioned.

You laughed. You really didn’t know what else to do. This was insane, and you didn’t have time to be dreaming right now. You had to get to your midterm.

Soldier: 76, in all of his glory, scowled at you. Or, at least, you figured he did. It was hard to tell with his mask and visor.

Zenyatta, however, was opening his hands in invitation, silently welcoming you. His kindness suddenly made you feel bad for all the times you’d sniped him as Widowmaker.

Mercy, the closest to you, had furrowed her brows in concern, reaching a hand toward you.

Sign #1 you’d been playing too much Overwatch: you were dreaming vividly of all the characters.

“Did you happen to hit your head,” Mercy inquired, a small, worried frown on her lips.

“Uh… no.” You said lamely, pinching your arm tightly, trying in vain to wake yourself up. This was so not happening.

“Are you sure?” Soldier: 76 asked, his voice just as gruff as it was in the game. Unconsciously, you almost expected him to yell “get over here and heal up”.

“It was a nasty battleground,” Zenyatta suggested lightly, gesturing vaguely. “Perhaps you hadn’t noticed in the heat of battle.”

Wait, what?

“The heat of battle?” You squeaked. “I was asleep in my dorm!”

 

Mercy’s head tilted, her eyes meeting Soldier’s visor, silently conversing.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of weird dream this is, but I really need to get to my midterm. So, uh, nice meeting you and everything… but, bye!” You shouted, fleeing from the three of them.

In your haste to escape them, you kept your head back, watching in fear as Soldier: 76 darted after you. You almost wanted to laugh at how similar he looked to when he sprinted in game, at least until you remembered you were his target and sped up.

You were so busy monitoring the old soldier you ran splat into another body. The impact pushed you back, the smell of cigars and something you couldn’t quite place wafting around you. You shook your head, lifting your eyes into the gaze of two brown orbs shining with mirth.

_McCree._

“What the hell is going on?” You shouted, grabbing at your head as you backed away from the cowboy you’d played for hours.

Your sudden outburst caused a few more heads to turn. You felt like the room was spinning when you saw Reinhardt, fully suited and looking at you with kind eyes, and D.Va, pausing her game to investigate what had happened.

“Calm down,” Soldier: 76 whispered with some heat, hoping to diffuse whatever situation this was.

“Me calm down?” You yelled voice rising as you scrambled away from him. “You’re not even real!”

His brows furrowed, dropping his guard a little bit in confusion. McCree offered a hand on your shoulder, his eyes moving from 76 to you.

“What’s the problem, darlin’?”

You laughed again.

“I need to wake up.”

McCree tipped his hat up the slightest bit.

“Don’t seem to be dreamin’, sugar.”

You backed away further, shaking his hand off your shoulder.

“This is a game.” You stated firmly, pointing an accusatory finger at McCree. “You, Jesse McCree, are a character. Believe me, I’ve said ‘it’s high noon’ enough times to know.”

McCree narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak before being interrupted by you.

“And you,” you pointed at Soldier: 76. “You’re Jack Morrison or Soldier: 76 or whatever you want to be called. I just took out Bastion with your helix rockets last night.”

Soldier: 76 took a step forward, his muscles tensed as he grew closer.

“All of you, you’re not real, you’re just a game! I’ve spent hours pl-”

Your voice cut off as you felt something sharp poke your neck. Briefly, you recognized the soft features of Mercy as you fell back to the ground, the world darkening once more.

 

As soon as awareness began to trickle back into your senses, you jumped up. Now you really were going to be late to your midterm. Your headache had gone away significantly, and your sight returned within seconds, only for you to be thoroughly disappointed.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Mercy said, smiling at you kindly.

“Not again,” you groaned, though your grumpiness didn’t deter Mercy in the slightest.

“Sorry about earlier, I needed to calm you down.”

You managed a half smile for her sake. After all, you were a Mercy main.

“I have to be dreaming,” you whispered, dropping your head to your hands.

“You aren’t,” Mercy suggested lightly, carefully placing herself by your side.

You couldn’t believe this was anything but a dream. Ever since you started playing Overwatch, you’d wished to be whisked away to their world, to be amongst such admirable (some, questionable) people. But it was always a dream, one that wouldn’t come true.

“I have to be,” you stated quietly, not really noticing whether Mercy heard you or not.

“How are ya?” A voice questioned from the doorway.

That familiar slang you’d heard so many nights sounded even smoother up close. You knew it was McCree without even having to look up.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted, getting to your feet.

Mercy kept a watchful eye on you, a hand close to your back just in case it got too much for you.

You shoved your hands in the flimsy pockets of your pajamas, idly playing with whatever your fingers found. It was cool to the touch and fit in the palm of your hand.

“I can prove it!” You shouted triumphantly, pulling your phone from your pocket.

It wasn’t quite dead yet and you knew you had one of your streaming videos downloaded to the phone.

“You sure ya alright, darlin’?” McCree eyed you curiously, then the medical expert.

You didn’t pay him mind, too busy flipping through the hundreds of pictures on your phone. You found it quickly, smiling at the caption: The Best of Overwatch. It was your favorite video of yours, complete with witty banter and great plays. A lot of it was just messing around, occasionally filled with actual good plays.

“See!” You flashed the screen to Mercy and then to McCree, gathering them around you as you examined the content.

You knew it best to not show them the whole video, well aware that some of it was a little inappropriate- especially in regards to one particular conversation concerning the voice lines.

“Hey guys,” your voice said cheerfully over the screen as the first Overwatch clip popped up.

You were playing Genji, your Hanzo teammate right next to you.

“This is going to be my personal best moments of Overwatch. As always, you’ll hear my friends and I messing around while, mostly, playing seriously. Sometimes.”

You could hear George laugh over the mic, his Hanzo perched carefully by your side as the counter reached the end, signaling the beginning of the match. The voiceover ended, going directly to your live mic at the time.

“Dynamic duo, eh?” George suggested, laughing as you ran ahead.

“Ain’t no ninja like me,” you said, jumping into of the enemy Mercy.

“If you don’t get Mercy I will,” George taunted you.

“If you take my kill, I swear to Christ,” you released a puff of air when the Mercy went down, jumping towards the Reinhardt.

Before you could finish getting there, he fell to the ground, Hanzo’s portrait coming across the screen with the kill.

“Ass,” you muttered, slicing through the Reaper to get to the Junkrat.

Before Genji stopped, Hanzo’s scattershot killed the Junk, causing you to stop right on his after-death bombs. You grumbled out curses as you died, watching you teammates as you waited for respawn. You paused the video, looking to Mercy and McCree.

Their eyes were widened, mouths open in shock. You weren’t crazy, you were telling the truth.

“That’s… us.” Mercy stated, wild thoughts flying through her mind, visible in her bright eyes.

McCree spoke up after a silent pause.

“Well, shit.”


	2. Part Two

“So, in this game…” McCree began for the hundredth time, his arms resting on the table as he leaned forward.

“What else could you possibly want to know?” You sighed, disinterestedly picking at your nails.

“Well, you said we have these ‘skins’, right?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to continue when he silenced.

“What’s my most attractive skin?” He asked, proudly puffing his chest almost as if he knew how good he looked. Though, you supposed he did have some idea, considering how big his head got whenever someone complimented him.

“Lifeguard,” you didn’t hesitate, causing you to blush when you realized what you said.

“What?” McCree chuckled, a deep southern drawl in his words.

“What?” You echoed timidly, your face heating up.

“Get back to work, McCree,” Soldier: 76 gruffed, positioning himself against the nearby counter.

The current Overwatch facility- which, mind you, wasn’t really built for Overwatch but actually served as an old army base- was quaint but nice. It didn’t boast high end technology, unlike the old Overwatch facility, but it had its own little charm to it. It was practical, as was the small room you found yourself in now. It was an old meeting place for generals and other higher ranks. Now, it served as McCree’s personal interregation room.

McCree puffed a breath, his eyes narrowing a fraction before he just shrugged. He’d left without another word, the scent of smoke and fresh leather wafting with his departure.

For a moment, there was a tenseness in the room that hadn’t been there before. Yes, you had played as Soldier: 76 on many, many occasions. In fact, he was your go to attack character. However, no matter how many times you saw him on the screen, it couldn’t prepare you for the seriousness he held in his posture. He meant business.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice rough and jagged, as he took the cowboy’s seat.

His posture, even as he sat, demanded attention. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you ventured to guess that he was probably blatantly glaring at you.

“Ask away,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He backed away the slightest bit, head tilting curiously.

“What makes you think I want to ask something?”

He spoke lowly, pleasantly so.

“Call it a wild guess,” you joked, rolling your eyes.

Everyone had already been hounding you, asking about their character on this so-called game. Mercy’s interrogation had probably been the most interesting, considering she was your main. You could safely say the two of you were friends now.

The same could not be said for Genji.

You didn’t really mean to offend him or anything, you’d just slyly mentioned that he managed to piss you off almost as much as Mei did in game because enemy Genjis always target Mercy.

He was less annoyed after you mentioned that Mei was the literal worst.

“I don’t care about your game,” he muttered, leaning on the table.

You’d be willing to bet a solid Benjamin that he was looking you up and down right now.

“I want to know how you got here and why?”

You shrugged, dropping your eyes to the ground. It was a question you found yourself asking for the past few days. It made no sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly, lost in your own little world.

Soldier: 76 recognized the look, his gaze letting up. You were lost, just as he’d seen himself quite a few times. Being from two different worlds, quite literally, he’d nearly forgotten that you were only human, after all. He had no doubt his friends had failed to notice how you might feel in all of this as well.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he offered, unsure of why he was even trying.

He felt drawn to you curiously. Call it kindred spirits or whatever, but he felt almost responsible for cheering you up.

“Do you know how to handle a gun?” He asked.

You looked up to him, your mouth falling open a fraction.

“Uh,” you uttered, “I’ve gone to a shooting range before, but not really.”

He smirked, though he knew you couldn’t see it.

“Alright, for every bulls-eye, you get a question,” he challenged.

You nodded, a smile blooming on your lips.

Jack ignored the way his heart sped up when he saw the expression.

“What’s in it for you?” You inquired suspiciously, leaning dangerously close to him over the table.

He held your gaze under his visor, one brow raised.

“For every bulls-eye I get, I get a question.”

He was out of his seat in the next second, gun slung over his back as he offered a hand to help you up. You took it graciously, sticking your lower lip out in a pout.

“No fair,” you argued, knowing full well that he could hit whatever bulls-eye he wished.

“Don’t complain to me,” he teased, a genuine smile gracing his lips for the first time in months. He felt lighter, happier. “I don’t make the rules, I just play the game.”


End file.
